But as he springs a dozen hands reach for him.There is a wild rush of twenty men for each other's throats.Too close to strike they can only choke and scrag and hack each other fiercely.The policemen push in, threatening with their batons, and there is a prospect of a general fight when the referee's whistle goes.Time is up.The MAULis over.'Varsity has its two points.The score now stand even, four to four, with two minutes to play.
They lift The Don from the ground.His breath is coming in gasps and he is trembling with the tremendous exertions of the last three minutes.
"Time there!" calls out Shock, who has Balfour in his arms.
The smile is all gone from Shock's face.As he watches The Don struggling in deep gasps to recover his breath, for the first time in his football life he loses himself.He hands his friend to a couple of men standing near, strides over to Mooney, and catching him by the throat begins to shove him back through the crowd.
"You brute, you!" he roars."What kind of a game do you call that!
Jumping on a man when he is down, with your knees! For very little,"he continues, struggling to get his arm free from the men who are hanging on it, "I would knock your face off."Men from both sides throw themselves upon Shock and his foe and tear them apart.
"That's all right, Shock," cries The Don, laughing between his gasps, and Shock, suddenly coming to himself, slinks shamefacedly into the crowd.
"It is not often Hamish forgets himself in yon fashion," says his mother, shaking her head."He must be sorely tried indeed," she adds confidently.
"I am quite sure of it," replies Helen."He always comes out smiling." And the old lady looks at her approvingly a moment, and says, "Indeed, and you are right, lassie."In a few minutes The Don is as fit as ever, and slapping Shock on the back says pleasantly, "Come, along, old fire-eater.We've got to win this game yet," and Shock goes off with him, still looking much ashamed.
McGill kicks from the twenty-five line, but before the scrimmage that follows is over time is called, with an even score.
The crowd streams on the field tumultuously enthusiastic over a game such as has never been seen on that campus.Both sides are eager to go on, and it is arranged that the time be extended half an hour.
Old Black gets Campbell aside and urges, "Take ten minutes off and get your men into quarters." Campbell takes his advice and the rubbers get vigorously to work at legs and loins, rubbing, sponging, slapping, until the men declare themselves fresh as ever.
"Not hurt, Don?" inquires Campbell anxiously.
"Not a bit," says The Don."It didn't bother me at all.I was winded, you see, before I fell.""Well," says Campbell, "we're going to give you a chance now.
There's only one thing to do, men.Rush 'em.They play best in attack, and our defence is safe enough.What do you say, Black?""I entirely agree.But begin steady.I should use your whole half back line, however, for a while.They will lay for Balfour there.""That's right," says the captain."Begin steady and pass to Martin and McLaren for the first while, and then everyone give The Don a chance.""And Shock," calls out little Brown, "don't be a fool, and stop fighting," at which everybody roars except Shock himself, who, ashamed of his recent display of temper, hurries off to the field.
Once more the campus is cleared.Battered and bloody as to features, torn and dishevelled as to attire, but all eager and resolved, the teams again line up, knowing well that they have before them a half hour such as they have never yet faced in all their football career.
It is 'Varsity's kick.Campbell takes it carefully, and places it in touch well within the McGill twenty-five.After the throw in, the teams settle down to scrimmage as steady as at the first, with this difference, however, that 'Varsity shows perceptibly weaker.Back step by step their scrimmage is forced toward the centre, the retreat counterbalanced somewhat by the splendid individual boring of Campbell and Shock.But both teams are alert and swift at the quarters, fierce in tackle and playing with amazing steadiness.
Suddenly Carroll nips up the ball and passes hard and swift to the half back immediately behind him, who in turn passes far out to Bunch on the left wing.With a beautiful catch Bunch, never slacking speed, runs round the crowd, dodges the quarters, knocks off Martin, and with a crowd of men of both teams close upon his heels, makes for the line.
Before him stands Bate alone.From his tall, lank make one might easily think him none too secure on his legs.Bunch determines to charge, and like a little bull rushes full at him.
But Bate's whole football life has been one long series of deceptions, and so he is quite prepared for this kind of attack.As Bunch comes at him he steps lightly aside, catches the half back about the neck, swings him round and lands him prone with such terrific impact that the ball flies out of his grasp.
Immediately little Brown has it, passes to Martin, who on being tackled passes to The Don.The field before him is full of the enemy, but The Don never hesitates.Doubling, twisting, knocking of, he eludes man after man, while the crowds on the line grow more and more frantic, and at length, clearing the main body, he sets off across the field to more open country on the 'Varsity left.Behind him come Campbell, Shock, Martin and others, following hard; before him stand three of the McGill defence.Dorion, McDonnell, and Mooney.He has already made a great run, and it looks as if he cannot possibly make through.
First Dorion springs at him, but The Don's open hand at the end of a rigid arm catches him full in the neck, and Dorion goes down like a stick.
